


Script

by MarieLamb_B



Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BReaking the script just feels so good..., Doing the same things over and over gets boring..., Not A Happy Ending, time loops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-03
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-04-07 00:34:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19073875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarieLamb_B/pseuds/MarieLamb_B
Summary: As far as we know, the count goes up to 414 loops. But have those been really all the times he had to do the same things? What if he simply got bored, not interested on marking any more loops, hopeless to ever be able to do something else? After all, is it possible to really change the script?





	Script

And there they go again. The end of their chase, the reel on the projector, the burning flash, and it was back into the deactivated machine.

That didn’t matter.

Soon, the human summoned to be the main character and hero of the story would make his appearance and would activate the machine. That didn’t take longer than half an hour. It also knew he had to. That was on the script.

And as was meant to be, that happened, for the nth time. Well, it had to stick to its role. It had to stick to the script. That’s why it was made.

First, with the machine activated, it had to wait for the human to peek through the boards and shove him, only to make him run and then fall by the shaft hidden near the entrance. Then wait until the prophet held him kidnapped to go to that inky man and destroy him, only to be able then to meet the hero of the story in a pool of ink near a door. Chase him; that was the usual. Wait until the hero and the wolf ran out of food so they had to get out of their little haven and start to wander around the twisted angel’s floors, and so it also could wander through those floors expecting to meet him and start chasing him once again. Sometimes it’d win the chase and got to ‘kill’ the human, but that didn’t matter, since he’s the main character and he wasn’t meant to really die. After the lift crashing, its only role was to go by rooms the hero couldn’t, and just stalk him a couple of times; no major intervention in that amusement park. And in the end was that too: roam around, not making direct contact with the human, kill the broken toons if the human managed to take them all out of the offices, more wandering.

And finally, their biggest chase, where it was able to take its bestial form and move faster than ever. Roaming by the machine’s halls, be leaded by the hero to break the ink glass pipes, and then wait for him to put the reel in the projector so it could appear behind him, and be burnt with light as that all restarted.

Honestly and despite the painful burnt in the end, that was its favorite part, since it hadn’t to depend on that twisted leg of its that made every step pretty much painful and sticky. Oh, well; with so many loops, it got used to that...

But that’s the thing: _so many loops_... Honestly, it was getting tired of the same story over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over... Didn’t matter at that time if the human tried to do something different, because it always had to go through the same path, appear from the same spots, and do exactly the same things over and over and over and over and over and over... chase, roam, kill, stalk...

But it couldn’t fight the script. It was made to follow the script. And so was the hero.

And seemed like the human felt also tired of the script, because there was nothing new, nothing to amuse him anymore. And that was boring too.

By the few first times was funny. When it first appeared by the boards, the man dashed like a bullet, crying that he had to get out of there. He would often get lost by the lower levels, ending on dead end hallways and allowing it to kill him. He usually tried to retrace his steps to see if there was something that he missed or some another way to do the things –how many times it watched the man trying to use the ax to break through the music director’s window, as a futile attempt to not doing all the steps he was supposed to do to drain the exit stairs. No, no, hero. The script was already written.

But now, the human barely reacted to anything. After a few loops, when was its time to appear through the boards, the man just stood there, watching him, to later start to move towards the exit with quick steps –he wasn’t running like the first times, anyways. If there weren’t for the little script change and it now that shoved the man and sent him stumble his back, there wouldn’t be a reaction at all, because he now _walked_ towards the exit, nearly contemplating all the ink cascading around him. Apparently, he thought that didn’t matter anymore, anyways he always fell.

After that, even the chases got boring. The man now knew the whole place like the back of his hand. He knew. Now _he knew_ which hallways he should take, from where it was going to appear, where those booths that protected him were. And now he didn’t die; he always avoided it.

Another proof of the man getting bored was something he never would have expected: the man started to leave his own messages in the walls and stuffs. Those were out of script, so at first sight these weren’t clearly shown, but the more it stared, the more it was able to see them, in a sparkling golden writing. It never saw before such glimmer in the building, and made things a little more interesting once again. Maybe those were against the script, but it didn’t change the main plot, so that really didn’t matter.

The first ones he found were... pretty heart wrenching, to say the least: counting the loops he –they had been through, a lot of apologizes towards the wolf, futile attempts to stop him from following the script, and the resignation and hopelessness of realizing that he never had a real choice.

But there also seemed like the human also wanted to see or do something new just for reasons, leaving silly messages, trying to cheer up with nonsenses, a few glowing drawings...

And also, a lot of those were directed to the man himself, like trying to remind him from previous loops what to see or what to do. But those fell into hopelessness once again.

It enjoyed a while to find new messages from the man. That was something new, like a new game between the loops. When it hadn’t to lure or chase the man, it would go and walk around the places it supposed the hero could have left a new message. That was like spotting the difference, and that really made all interesting again for a while.

But then, after a long run of loops, the man got tired again, and there were no new messages, drawings or glowing lines to see around. And it got bored again too.

Now he didn’t even try to mark a new tally to the loop count. He didn’t run. He would patiently hide in those booths before it had to pass near of him, knowing when and where he was going to be.

He even learnt the monsters’ mechanics: when and where to hit, how to move around them, how many hits or switch he would need to end their fights.

But in the end, nothing of that mattered. It knew now. It now got bored. They both were bored!

...but that didn’t change the script.

So it roamed by the machine’s halls, was leaded by the hero to break the ink glass pipes, and then it waited for him to put the reel in the projector so it could appear behind him, and be burnt with light as all that restarted.

And back into the machine.

And back in the beginning.

Over. And over. And over.

If the script was slightly changed, didn’t affect the main story.

There was no other story.

But it couldn’t change the script.

Nothing really changed the script...

And as the, oh, so many other times, they reached their ‘final battle’ inside the machine. It hit the poor man and make him break through the wall, and then it would start to rush among the hallways, opening inky portals from end to end only to not stop running. And it would see the man around, who would find the levers, open the doors to where the glass pipes where and repeat the story over again.

...

Wait... this was getting strange...

The man, the hero, the main character in this story, was doing _nothing_. Nothing at all! He just stayed stood across the wall he was hit through before. Well, its role in that moment was to run by the halls, so why not run across the hallway where he was standing? At least it could get to see the man if he did something.

But against anything it expected, the human just walked a few steps, enough to be in the middle of the very hallway. And it couldn’t break his script.

It ran over him. And for the very first time in who knew how many loops back, it killed the man.

Ok... that didn’t matter. There was a statue by the T-junction of a hall. He would respawn soon...

And he did. And the roaming and chasing began once again. But could that be called ‘chase’ if the one meant to be its ‘prey’ wasn’t running?

_Can’t change the script._

It ran again across the hallway passing in front of that statue. And the man walked a few steps to be in the middle of its route.

It killed him again.

He respawned again in front of the statue, and repeated his previous actions. Step forward. Being ran over. Get killed. Respawn.

Every time the man did that, took him more time to respawn, but he always did anyways. He did that again. And again. And again. And again...

_Can’t change the script._

Soon it started to feel worried, if not afraid, over how many times it killed the man in that short period. The hero refused to go and get the levers. He just was trying to get killed.

It started to run by different hallways. It didn’t want to keep killing the human. But he realized of that, and started to look forward the hallways where it was running. Now the hero was chasing his own death.

And so he did: it’d run by a hallway, the human stood in front of it, and it killed him. And again. And again. Didn’t matter which hallway it was running by, the human would find a way to step in its way and get killed.

_Can’t change the script._

And every time took more time for him to respawn. Only to attempt against his life again.

_Can’t change the script._

It didn’t want to keep with this. The so-called hero was _not_ following the script.

_Can’t change the script._

This was no longer a story. The man just wanted to die.

_Can’t change the script._

It didn’t want to kill him. Not anymore. That was senseless.

_Can’t change the script._

_Stop standing by its way!_

_Can’t change the script._

_STOP THAT!_

_Can’t change the script._

**_STOP!!!_ **

...

_...change the script._

It stopped running, just a few inches before the man, the one who held the most confused stare now as he was ready –again– to die. But it didn’t want to keep killing him, that was senseless! He would only go back to the ink abyss to be shoved out of there. He can’t die. He’s the hero of the story!

“...why did you stop?” Inquired the man. His voice wasn’t broken, was _shattered_.

“C’mon! you’ve been killin’ me this whole time and now you regret it?!” _What? No! That’s– that’s not how that worked_...! “ _JUST DO IT ALREADY_!”

_Change the script._

No, that’s not how things worked in here. It gave the man a stern look –as much as it could since its only facial feature was its fanged mouth– and sat there, right in front of him. It was not going to keep killing him senselessly.

“...What? Really? You’re gonna just stay there?” _Not like that wasn’t the man’s plan, just by standing there._ “C’mon, kill me!” He dared. “Kill me already. End with this!”

‘End’? No. ‘The End’ was the reel he had to put in the projector at the throne room. This won’t end anything; the reel would! That’s why that’s named ‘The End’!

_Change the script._

But the man didn’t just stand there this time. Seeing as it wasn’t going to do what it was supposed to, the hero grabbed its sharp clawed hand, now trying to stab himself with its claws. But it wasn’t going to have none of that, as it pulled its hand out of the man’s reach.

“What’s the matter now? Is that you’re afraid of me or something? What kind of beast are you?!” He tried to tease it, but that wouldn’t change its mind.

And after a while, where the man just stood there, panting hard as his face showed quite a number of mixed emotions and tears began to run down his cheeks, he spun on his heels and started to walk away.

“Alright. If you’re gonna do nothin’, then I’ll go back to that throne room. At least I can sit in there and rest a while...” He hissed with a clear rage tone. And after that, he just turned to a hallway with no levers. How could he then get back to the throne room?

_Change the script._

But what about the reel? What about him supposedly to pull the levers, get into the glass pipes room, make it destroy them? Just _then_ he could get back to the room! What about the script?!

 _Change the script_.

It followed the man. There was no other way to get back there, it was sure! But then it saw him: he _climbed_ through the hole from where he was hit before. He got back in the room!

He had... _changed the script_... somehow...? This was definitely something entirely new and confusing. But as a way to reassure itself, that wouldn’t mean anything as long as the story concludes as should. That might be just a little change, meaningless, just like the glowing hidden messages or how it itself started to shove him from the boarded room. Maybe even it could convince the man to resume his role and end the story once again. That’s why they all were there after all.

With use of its portals, it got to the throne room and met the man. His look, although, was deplorable; sitting in the very throne, clenching his head down as his shoulders were shaking along with an incompressible, sniffing murmur. That’s... not what he’s supposed to do. According to the script, as soon as he gets back to the throne room, he should put the last reel on the projector! Not staying there, sitting and mopping... There must be a way to convince him to continue as scripted...

_Change the script._

It approached to the man, honestly uncertain of what to do with him, but it needed to continue. _It was made for that_.

With the softest steps it could manage, it drew closer to the sobbing man. He didn’t react, so it started to whine and bump him to catch his attention.

“What? Are you gonna finally end me?” End him-? No! that’s not-... It sighed, giving an exasperated grunt and shook its head as a negative. “Then leave me alone. Go away! The less I need right now is a mock of my cartoon that doesn’t even do the sickening job that _he_ made you to do.” His voice was full of defeat and disdain.

But who was he meaning of? A mock? It couldn’t help but whine while tilting its head in confusion. A sound that seemed to catch the man’s attention.

“...Really? Don’t you have _any_ idea of what’s all this shit?!” His voice was near to exasperated. He raised his head, finally facing it, and no longer worrying of contain the tears that freely flowed down his face with anger and hopelessness.

What could it respond to that? Yes, it clearly had the idea of him taking the reel, putting it in the projector, making everything around burn in a bright golden light and then be sent back into the machine to wait and be released to start the ‘chase’ once again... and again...

The incredulity look the human gave to it was so curious as if he tried to decipher the way it was composed. Maybe because it didn’t realize the reduced demeanor it was acquiring as it thought about following the script as they should and doing... the same story... once again... but that’s why it was created, wasn’t it?

_Change the script._

“For real?!” Sheer exasperation erupted from the man as he now stood from the seat, griping his head as a way to contain the frustration that only grew due the demon’s naivety, and approached it confrontationally. “Any of this _does_ make sense for you?! We’ve been doing... _this_ – _!_ for who knows how long. And nothing of this just... No! Nothing of this has an end. Nothing of this has a meaning! We’re just trapped in here, condemned to repeat all this nonsense. And what for?!” He approached to the throne once more, only to grab the reel that should put to end –and restart– all this story, and then he threw that dammed thing to the other side of the room with all his strength and frustration, watching that reel bump into a wall and bounce to the floor until that rolled a little and came to a stop. “ _Nothing!_ All this shit is just pointless! Just...”

 _Pointless_... that’s a word which meaning it never thought before. _Pointless,_ meaning that ‘has no point’. What was the point? End this. How? The reel. But... could the man be right? _No!_ How could it think...? That wasn’t in the script, it wasn’t made for that. It was made to follow the script... endlessly...

 _Change the script_.

It approached to the thrown reel, grabbing it gently with its maw. He turned again to the hero, nudging him, trying to make him pick the reel and to follow the last of script that could be done. But the sour mood the man was in didn’t budge for the sake of the script.

“Wha-? No! How’s that you still don’t get it?!” He pulled the reel off its maw, shaking the thing angered as he growled everything that that meant for him. “This... this _fucking thing_...! It won’t. End. Anything! It’ll never end it! This only makes us to fucking repeat _everything_! Or what? Did it make you think that something could be different?” He asked mockingly to a creature that couldn’t ponder the amount of dismay the man was holding overwhelmingly. “Did you think that maybe we could do things different? Find a way to _not_ kill Boris maybe? To not follow Alice’s errands? Or to maybe not fall by that _fucking hole in the entry?!_ WHAT IN THE WORLD MADE YOU THINK OF Something... something...” It saw how he slowed in his rant, tears stroking down his face unstoppably as his eyes widened altogether with all his ‘expandable’ features, like his mouth, nostrils and creasing brows.

It remembered that face, as the one of pure terror he had shown the very first times they ran these loops. It couldn’t say it missed that face. Although now seemed to hit the man not quite with fear, but it couldn’t tell what his face was for.

“What made you think...” He repeated, albeit more to himself, with his stare slowly lowering and tension restraining him to move fluidly. “Made you... You were made, ain’t you? _He_ made you...” He finally voiced his whirling thoughts as if a revealing shock hit him harder than the hit that made him break through the wall. But it couldn’t get clearly what he meant with those questions. Yes, it was made. _Everything_ in here was made with the sole purpose to follow the script. But it couldn’t get what he meant by “he”. So the sole response it could offer to the standing man was a simple shrug. And he released a sigh with tints of a laugher; an empty, hollow and weightless mock of a laugher.

“Of... of course... Why did I think...? What was _I_ thinking...?!” He dropped the reel as he tried to grab his own head.

His knees wobbled, legs unable to maintain him properly stood. And seeing him about to collapse on himself, it hurriedly approached, stumbling its head against his chest and giving him enough support to carry him towards the throne, and so to leave him there sat. It watched as the man crumbled apart in his own lament, distressed. And there wasn’t much it could do for the hero of the story, was it?

_Change the script._

The grief continued, with sobbing and mumblings that it couldn’t quite make out of. That until the man found back his own voice.

“What am I gonna do...?” He asked in a whisper. “I’m... I’m trapped here... I’m trapped and nothing I ever do will change anything...!” He hissed, clutching his fingernails deep in his scalp. “And you...” He turned to it with wide, furious, defeated eyes. “You’re nothing but another of his puppets! Why did I thought that you could change anything... that you could _understand_ anything...? I’m... alone... I’ll never see my family again... I won’t...” His voice faded once again in the middle of his whimpering. Sobs broke through his throat as tears flooded down his eyes once again, nearly washing every ink stain from his face but leaving another kind of stain trail in his cheeks.

It only observed. What else could it do?

_Change he script._

It couldn’t tell where this alien feeling came from, but for once in all its attempts, luring the man to follow the script wasn’t what urged it the most.

It drew itself closer to him, slowly and cautious. And when it felt it was close enough, it lowered itself, nudging gently so it could fit its head under his arm. And with a low, soft grunt, it rested its chin on the man’s lap, letting him feel the vibrations, as trying to soothe him from his mourning cry.

_Change the script._

The main character was taken aback, too unsettled by its behavior to immediately react. He was unsure, but all this last time the beast hadn’t tried anything against him, unlike as he himself had tried. So after wiping a few trails of tears left in his face, he let his hand rest in its head, albeit jerking a little at first from the deep grunts the creature emitted, but gradually allowing himself to... pet it. Awkward at starts, as its massive head was bigger than his own torso, but its demeanor allured him to keep doing so, as its head tilted, quite certainly in appreciation over the act.

“Heh... I guess you like this, huh?” His only response were more gurgles, and he released a humorous snort. “What, never been petted before...? Of course not. You’ve been doing the same things as much as I’ve done...” And with that, any bit of cheeriness that might have built crumbled once again. But curiosity peaked this time in contrast to his sorrow. “Why were you doing all that, though? Why keep doing it over and over? It’s obvious that you’re aware of all this as much as I am. Don’t you get tired of all this?” He stopped scratching behind its horns and it rose its head as if watching him.

It made itself back, distant enough to not tower over the man but still close enough. It never had tried to speak in its entire existence, but at least it knew how words sounded, so it made a try.

It hissed at first, slow and marked. Then a gurgling slow screech, with a voice tone as higher as its deep throat allowed it. And ended with a cutting popping sound.

The man couldn’t match the pieces together, and reflexively, he tilted his head and just let out a loquacious “eeehhhh...” as indicator of his great understanding.

It huffed, but repeated the actions another time. A hiss, a higher pitched gurgling, and a popping sound.

“You... hurt somewhere? Something exploded? Popped?”

Another huff and a pronounced shake of its head. It did it all over again, carefully slowly, trying to get the man to follow it as it tried one last time.

A hiss, a higher pitched gurgling, and a popping sound.

_“Sssss... grrreeeee... P.”_

“ssscreeeeep...” Repeated the man, as slow as it did. Feeling the oddness of the pronunciation, he repeated, trying to give the noises any sense to that not-quite-word. “Screeeep... Screep. Scrip? Script?!” he nearly shouted, as if a bolt struck him as he assumed he got the clue. And all the while, it started to shake frantically its head, up and down, as the man resolved his ideas. “Script? A script? You’ve been following a script all this time?”

_Change the script._

It kept shaking his head up and down frantically, humming a little with certainness as to reinforce the clue the man got right.

“A script...” The man muttered, letting sink the realization of what power that insignificant word meant. “...Then all this time, we’ve been inside a script? Just that? A story?! A story for what?!”

It stopped his fervent nodding, struck with the last question. As it was made to follow its role inside the script, never crossed its mind the idea of thinking the reasons behind said script. It had no answer.

_Change the script._

“...That’s what I thought...” He said in a sigh, leaning back in the chair and covering his face with both hands. “So the story ends, and resets. And I can’t do anything to change it, do I?” His voice, soft and low, was entirely filled with defeat and sorrow. And it had never felt such despair in all of their meaningless time.

Regardless everything its pre-set mind shouted at it, it couldn’t care less. The feelings the human, the supposed to be ‘hero’ of this story, was projecting were stronger than anything it ever felt– _if_ it had ever felt. No, the script was pointless, senseless, meaningless; anything the man already said, and it had to recognize that as a truth: what was the point of a story, if everything was made for the characters to keep falling into the very same traps, twists, enemies and all that? Not like they could get a lesson or a moral about all of this. They simple were bounded to repeat everything pointlessly... never getting a real rest...

_Change the script._

It drew itself towards the man in the throne, and being next to him, it just plopped down, its giant arms wrapping the base of the chair. The man startled looked down at it, who seemed to keep its sight locked to his. And with a silent and solemn nod, it lifted its view to where the screenings were showing the looped shorts of the cartoon the studio kept as main character. He followed its line of sight, contemplating for real the images moving around.

When his attention was fully caught by the cartoons, it took the chance to rest its massive head over the man’s lap. Slightly startled, he let a small huffed laugh escape his lungs, and with the same caution as before, he started to scratch behind the beast’s horns, to then absentmindedly keep watching the screens.

With all the time they spent on just being there, it thought that didn’t matter anymore; they already had changed the script a lot with the mere fact of them interacting and not trying to kill each other. And to be honest, it never thought that defying the script would feel so... nice. No cues, not being dragged from place to place in awaits to give chase, even the simple act of not _walk_ with that mangled leg. Being there with the hero; if a hero was supposed to save the ones in their stories, now it didn’t have a doubt as to why he was chosen to be such character, and that also made it felt quite sorrowful about being the ‘villain’ in this story of them, as they could be even friends if the script would allow it.

But... they broke the script! They could! And maybe it could help him to return to the place he had come–

Any thought of a new path or a possible incoming future was suddenly interrupted by the shutting down of every single cartoon, obscuring the room, and the deafening rolling of the nearest projector. Both jerked to see what was playing now in the now brightly white screens, and then both screamed in pain as a gold and white light washed over all the room.

‘The End’ was now playing all around them.

How could it ever dared to _think_ , to _dream_ that any other path was even possible? Oh, what a silly thought.

_No._

Both tried to hold each other as a vain attempt to soothe the pain they had to go through every time that now condemned reel had to be played.

**_Can’t._ **

This never hurt so bad before. Why was hurting now like that? It didn’t want to hurt. It didn’t want to lose his friend!

**_C̷h̴a̵n̴g̶e̵.̴_ **

“What’s happening?!” The man screeched hoarsely. Seemed like he hadn’t ever felt this pain before. He tried to reach for the beast, holding its horn, feeling like he was being torn apart from himself. And he held its head for dear life.

**_T̷͎͗ḧ̶̦́͜͝ȩ̸̽.̶̳͛_ **

A deafening ring slowly appeared in both their hearings, not allowing them to hear the rumbling thunder that seemed to take place in the room. It growled deep and loud, trying to overlap that ringing in its hear, fruitlessly.

 

**_S̴̪̮̳̆̄̌̒͐̈̈́̐̋͋̀̋́̐C̶̪̮̆̽͗̒̎R̸̢͎͖̖̤̟̬̞̘̪̪̰̓İ̵̡͉̤̻̼̥͚̠̲̌͋̓̌̈́̈́͂͠P̷̛͇̰͓̋̆͋̇̽̀̌̒͛̕͜͝͠Ṯ̵̹͖̘͕͂̽͌̐̾̕̚͝!̵͖̳͗̈́̄̅̑̐̍̐́̌͌̄̀̕_ **

 

The room was wrapped in white, and it was sure that the human named it; the name that was supposed to belong to the cartoon character. But that didn’t matter, as everything was consumed by the light before leaving only the ringing noise. And then–

Darkness.

It never felt so alone before.

Although it knew where it was and what’s going on next, it actually was enjoying _not_ doing so. And now it felt... alone...

It waited.

The rumble in the pipes never came as quickly as now was.

Maybe he was missing it as much as it was missing him...

Didn’t took 15 minutes and the machine was finally active. It was finally free of that darkness. It could go now and welcome its hero; its friend.

It approached to the boarded entrance, peeping in anticipation to see the human. But when it saw him and lifted its hand to greet him, something yanked its arm, forcing it to shove him. And although it didn’t really reach him, it saw him too, being yanked by his neck to force him stumble back and down as used to be scripted.

It squinted at its hand, seeing the glowing gold, same as the writings the man used to scribble around the place, now used as chains around its limb. But when it turned its head, the writing the man once had done in the balcony was completely gone, erased from existence.

It turned once more to the man, who seemed being struggling with something attached to his neck, and it could see the very same glow around not only his neck, but also his wrists and waist alike.

_No..._

The man was yanked once again, forcing him to stand up and then to rush his way to where the chasm was and he had to fall.

It tried to pry open the boards, prevent him to fall, but it was yanked back by the binds in its wrist and neck. No. it was now supposed to wait for him in the music department, wait for him to be sacrificed and destroy the prophet and give chase to him once more, _just like it was scripted._

All of their time together, their comforting, their deviation... all that was what was really meaningless. How silly was from it to think that anything could be different. This was their story; this was their path to go through. After all, it was made for that. _He_ made it for that. You just...

_Can’t change the script._

**Author's Note:**

> I said I had some other projects in the bag. This is just a little one of all of them =3=~
> 
> Hope you have enjoyed!! ~~And also hoping for some distressing reaction, if I'm being honest~~~
> 
> I won't say that "soon", but I'll be around with more to show sometime~
> 
> Take care!!
> 
> ♥♥♥


End file.
